


The Question

by deathtothecrows



Series: Team Fortress Oneshots [4]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Dysphoria, Gender Dysphoria, Graphic Description, Scars, Trans Male Character, Trans Scout, idk - Freeform, non graphic description of genitalia, slightly medical?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 15:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtothecrows/pseuds/deathtothecrows
Summary: Scout examines the faults in himself.





	The Question

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware that all of the tags act as trigger warnings. This fic is based on some of my own problems with dysphoria, but the medical stuff wasn't researched so if I'm wrong about something feel free to point it out to me and I'll fix it.

Standing in front of a mirror is one of the worst things you can do to yourself. Scout knew that firsthand and yet he still did it every night. Standing naked in front of a mirror, examining himself, as if somehow a part of him had finally changed. And most of him had changed, he was lucky enough to have a doctor willing and able to perform the surgeries he needed in order to feel whole. But there was one surgery he hadn’t done yet. One that Scout wasn’t sure he wanted done. But one that still plagued his thoughts.

He ran his hands along the scars on his chest, fingertips cold as the hands of the doctor who blessed him with them. They curved around his pectorals, almost looking like a shadow. He quite liked them, they looked cool. Not as cool as his other scars but still. 

He let his fingers run down his side, marveling at the way his ribs stuck out, and how his muscles showed. His mother certainly couldn’t call him fat now. He’d made sure of that with an extensive exercise regime. 

Scout let his eyes skirt around the problem area to look at his new genitalia, the stuff he should’ve been born with, but God had decided to torture him for it. It had taken some getting used to, in order to be able to use it properly, and it worked out rather well thanks to Medic’s untrained hands. It made his heart swell just to see that everything was alright there. Because he took a special version of T that the good doctor had cooked up, he didn’t have to worry about ovulation or anything of the sort. It was reassuring.

The runner let his fingers brush his thighs, sinewy and rather stocky. Another thing to be proud of. His calves, too, were immensely strong and it showed. Often when he wore shorts around the base the other mercs had commented on them, which made him smile as bright and broad as the sun in the afternoon sky. 

Eventually. Slowly. Scout let his eyes drift back up to the problem area. To a thing he couldn’t see, but knew was there. The factory of all his pain, and the one thing that was too dangerous and crazy to change. He swore that if he squinted hard enough he could just see it there in his abdomen. That  _ thing _ full of much smaller things that he would never ever utilize. 

Scout had once brought up, in conversation with the German, if it would be possible to take it out, seeing as he would never use it for its original biological purpose. Medic informed him with a wayward smile that some of the hormones he needed to survive were made there, and that leaving a cavity in his abdomen like that was very bad for one’s health. Apparently he’d successfully done the procedure before, but the patient was left with almost constant pain, and an inability to produce certain chemicals vital to her survival. She had to take pills for the rest of her life to ease away the symptoms.

So the question was, did Scout want that for himself?

 

He didn’t know the answer. 

Fingertips ran gently across his lower abdomen, he knew where it was, the thing that plagued him. It scared him, and angered him at the same time. The question running through his head just as fast as he ran through the enemy’s territory. For now the answer was:

He didn’t know.

The Scout got dressed and went to dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments if you liked it! Comments especially fuel my creative process. :)


End file.
